


Crazy For You

by JetGirl1832, tomatopudding



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: A Little Cracky At Times, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Based on a Musical, Cowboys, F/M, Fluff, Gershwin references, Happy Ending, M/M, but mostly sincere, duh - Freeform, happy ending guaranteed, showgirls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetGirl1832/pseuds/JetGirl1832, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: A zany rich-boy-meets-hometown-girl romantic comedy, Crazy For You tells the story of young New York banker Marius Pontmercy, who is sent to Deadrock, Nevada, to foreclose on a rundown theatre. In Deadrock, Marius falls for spunky Cosette Fauchelevent, the theater owner’s daughter. But Cosette takes an instant dislike to the city slicker, so Marius vows – through cunning, razzmatazz, and a hilarious case of mistaken identity – to win Cosette’s heart and save the theatre.





	1. Can't Be Bothered Now

**Author's Note:**

> In the summer of 2018, we were in a show called Crazy For You. It's a reimagining of the musical Girl Crazy using only Gershwin songs. Since then, we had the idea of doing a LM AU of this show and now here it is.
> 
> The summary above is the actual show summary, with a bit of name substitution of course.
> 
> Fun Fact: The west end recording of the soundtrack features Ruthie Henshall (Fantine from the 10th Anniversary Concert) as Polly (Cosette's character) however this is not the only connection to Les Mis.

Marius Pontmercy had always been a happy child. He lived with his parents in a one-bedroom apartment above a seedy bar in a not-so-great part of New York City. They were the only family Marius had ever known, but he never felt his life lesser for it. His mother spent her days cleaning other apartments while Marius stayed with a neighbor, always home in time to make dinner for his father. Marius didn’t know what his father did and was too young to really care. The most important thing was what happened on the weekends. His father seemed to know every big name jazz musician and vaudeville star in the business. Marius idolized his father because of it, his love of the stage starting from a very young age. Seeing those vaudeville acts and hearing the music filled Marius with joy. Then at the age of nine, his mother died and his father left and Marius found himself living with a grandfather he had never known existed.  


His life changed drastically from then on, he spent most of his time in care of his nanny Nicolette and his Aunt as his tutor. His grandfather never allowed jazz music in his house, which was all brick, dark and empty hallways. Marius wound up finding solace at the movies, taking the pocket money he was given he'd spend hours watching film after film. Enamored by the likes of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Judy Garland and more. He'd practice dance steps in his room, on the thick carpet so his grandfather would never know. He hated having to hide that side of himself and as he grew older and began to conform more to his grandfather’s ideals, no matter how painful it was for him emotionally.

When he was a teen he started sneaking into the theaters up and down broadway, but the best thing that could have ever happened to Marius was making friends with one dancer by the name of Eponine Thenardier.  
She worked in vaudeville when they first met, a chorus girl with the potential to be more. After shows, she would bring Marius backstage to see how things worked and Marius was enthralled.  
  
The two became fast friends, and she even helped him with his dancing when they'd go to different hoofer clubs across the city.  
  
"I want some of those," Marius looked wide eyed at the shiny flash of taps on the bottoms of dancers shoes that made the most magical sound he'd ever heard. 

Eponine laughed at that and patted Marius on the shoulder, “We’ll get you a pair, even if we have to make them ourselves.”  
  
"Really?" Marius grinned.  
  
"Of course," Eponine grinned, "come on Mr. Almost Bank Manager I'm sure we can figure out something."  
  
That was what Marius liked about Eponine, she was very straightforward. If she said she’d do something than you could be sure that she would. He also liked the complete lack of romantic overtones in their relationship. His grandfather was always going on about settling down and finding a wife, it was nice to be in the company of someone who just didn’t care.  
  
"So how goes things in the financial prison?" Eponine asked.  
  
Marius let out a deep sigh before taking a sip of his drink, "About as well as they always do."  
  
Eponine made a sympathetic noise. Marius’s grandfather was grooming him to take over the family business: banking. And not just banking, loans and the repossession of collateral when payments weren’t met. 

"You really hate it don't you," Eponine sighed.  
  
"I do," Marius slumped into his chair, "I'm miserable, I don't know how Alexandre can stand it."  
  
Alexandre Enjolras was a few years older than Marius and one of his biggest irritants. Enjolras Sr was Marius’s grandfather’s business partner and for some reason Alexandre had been assigned as a babysitter for Marius, keeping on top of him so that he’d do his work on time. As far as Marius was concerned, Alexandre had no heart. At least none that had been made apparent to him.

Eponine let out a laugh, “He seems like a very serious guy.”  
  
“That’s putting it mildly,” Marius nodded thinking back to any conversation he’d had with the man. They hardly ever exchanged more than a few words.

Evenings like these happened whenever they had the chance, Marius complaining about his grandfather and Eponine complaining about the fact that she was always shoved to the back of the line or tableau despite the fact that her form and technique were far higher than every prima donna that slept with a director to get her featured role. And then things changed. Bela Zangler was an unknown quantity, a man from somewhere in Europe who suddenly took the performing world by storm. He took on a group of girls, who he called Follies, and they became the toast of the town. And then he found Eponine.  
  
All she’d wanted was someone to notice her, to recognize her for her talents. And she got all that and more when she became one if the Follies featured performers. That resulted in Marius’s circle of friends growing to include both Musichetta, who insisted that she did not have a last name, and Jean Prouvaire, who went by “Jeanne” as a Follies girl but preferred Jehan in his everyday life. After a long day at the bank Marius would make a mad dash to the theatre, covered in glittering lights, bearing Bela Zangler’s marquee. He’d slip in through the back and watch from the wings most nights, sometimes mimicking the movies wishing he was out there on that stage. 

It also meant that he got an interesting inside look at Bela Zangler himself, which was a bit of an odd situation. When he presented himself to the theatre and to the world, he was a vaguely European man with a thick accent and a mustache to match. Once the crowds left and the theatre emptied, the act was dropped. The first time he watched Bela lurking backstage after the show, peeling off his mustache as he wen,  surprised Marius. That night he asked ‘Ponine all about it, because if anyone were to know why it’d be her.  
  
“It’s all a front,” Eponine told him when he asked, “His name is Montparnasse.”  
  
Apparently, he had decided that the world would be more receptive to this group of show girls being lead by a vaguely European man rather than some kid from Flushing. 

Marius let out a mildly amused laugh, “I suppose they would, gives him that theater impresario look.”  
  
“He’s a bit of a creep sometimes,” Eponine added, “but me and the girls know how to put a stop to that real quick.”

Marius raised his brow in concern.  
  
“I know that look,” Eponine pursed her lips, “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, I can handle him, besides he wouldn’t risk losing his star performers.”

“I hope you’re right,” Marius replied.  
  
They continued in this way for a time, Marius coming to shows after work. Still quietly practicing his dancing at home dreaming of being under the spotlight. If he had that he knew he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more.


	2. Bidin' My Time

Marius was running late and this was the worst possible day for him to be doing so. This was his last chance before the Follies took their break between performance seasons, his last chance to make an impression and get cast and finally leave his grandfather and the bank behind. He kept running as fast as he possibly could, it didn't help that it was raining. He could only hope that Zangler would be able to see past his appearance and take notice of his skill.    
  
A nearby clock started chiming, the show would be over soon, he could make it. He had to make it. Everyone at the theatre knew him by now and made no fuss about him going backstage. When he skidded to a halt in the wings, the girls had just all finished coming off stage and Zangler was making his final speech to the audience.    
  
“There you are,” Eponine said, making an attempt to smooth the collar of his shirt, “You almost missed your chance.”

"I feel like I'm going to pass out," Marius panted going for his briefcase where he'd shoved his tap shoes that morning.

"You can do that when you're done," Eponine laughed, "and we can stop at a diner for a soda the tuna melts.”

"Sounds like a great idea," Marius replied wiping some of the rain from face.

Marius had just managed to slide on his tap shoes when the sound of applause announced the end of Zangler’s speech. The man himself soon strode backstage, immediately beginning to speak to Musichetta, who was waiting with his jacket. 

“Oh, Mr. Zangler!” Marius called, rushing over, “Just a minute!”   
  
When he saw it was Marius, the Zangler mask slipped off and his warm smile turned into a scowl. 

“I am busy,” Montparnasse snapped, pulling his jacket on.

"Please it'll only take a minute," Marius straightened, "I promise."

"I have things to do, places to be," Montparnasse tried to side step him, "how many times must I tell you no?"

“Just one more chance, please,” Marius practically begged, “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Montparnasse huffed out a breath and glanced at his watch, “You have two minutes and then I walk.”   
  
“Oh thank you! You’ll love this,” Marius told him, “I swear.”   
  
Eponine had taught Marius many dance steps over their friendship and had helped him out together what she called a show stopping performance. His voice was is only accompaniment as he danced and Marius thought that it was going very well.

That is until the very end when he got a little too close and personal with Montparnasse.

"My foot..." Montparnasse practically growled.

“What?” Marius said, bewildered and out of breath. 

“You’re standing on my foot!” Montparnasse bit out.   
  
Marius practically jumped back. Montparnasse was now glowering and red in the face.

"Get out of my theater!" he snapped.

He didn’t even give Marius a chance to comply, storming out himself not moments later and leaving Marius looking after him forlornly. 

“Well!” Jehan said into the silence, “That went well.”  
  
“No it didn’t,” Marius groaned, “but thanks for saying so.”  
  
“We’ll still go get those tuna melts,” Eponine told him soothingly.   
  
“Yeah!” Musichetta agreed, “It’ll make you feel better.”  
  
“Alright,” sighed Marius with a tiny smile, “you girls go and get changed. I’ll wait here.”  
  
As the three of them were heading towards the dressing room, Jehan paused.   
  
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I thought you were wonderful.”  
  
He pressed a small kiss to Marius’s cheek and rushed to catch up with the other two. Marius had really screwed up this time, how in the world was he ever going to get on stage now? Marius slid down against the wall and began removing his tap shoes. How was ever going to get another chance to prove himself? He remained on the floor until his three friends returned, at which point they helped him to his feet and they all headed out into the night. Thankfully it had stopped raining, but Marius wished it hadn’t. Rain would have fit his mood better.   
  
“I knew you’d be here.”  
  
Marius groaned aloud at the familiar voice of Alexandre Enjolras.

“What do you want Alex?” Marius grumbled.   
  
Enjolras stiffened, and Marius knew why, he hated when anyone called him “Alex,” but he certainly didn’t say so. But if Marius had to be miserable, he could derive some enjoyment out of annoying the tall blonde before him.

“For you to do your job without my prompting,” Enjolras retorted primly, “But we can’t always get what we want.”

Marius huffed, “You know the bank is closed for the day, so why are you here now?”   
  
“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be,” Enjolras informed him, “but your grandfather has been looking for you.”   
  
“Then why isn’t he here?” Marius asked.    
  
“I am.”   
  
There was something about his grandfather’s voice that just got to Marius, made him want to stand up straight and “yes, sir” his way through life. An urge that Marius strongly resisted.    
  
“Grandfather,” he said instead, “What a lovely surprise.”   
  
“Say goodnight to your...friends, Marius,” his grandfather commanded, “there’s no time for dilly-dallying any longer.”

Marius waved shyly at the girls who lingered waiting for him. Although the look in her eye told him ‘Ponine was determined to wait for him. But even she eventually gave in to the power of his grandfather’s pointedly raised eyebrow. After getting some assurance from Marius in the form of a small nod. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was waiting for him just out of sight anyway. Marius turned back to his grandfather who was looking at him sternly.  
  
“When are you ever going to grow up?” he barked.  
  
Marius knew the currently unsaid remainder of that sentiment. Stop dreaming impossible things, get your head out of the theatre and into something practical, useful.

"Marius, I'm giving you one last chance and I do not want you to disappoint me," his grandfather sighed.

Marius was feeling particularly downtrodden after his disastrous audition and didn’t even have the energy to argue.    
  
“How grand,” he said with false cheer. 

"Here," Grandfather Gillenormand passed him a thick envelope, "it's for one of the properties we manage in Deadrock, Nevada."   
  
Marius took the envelope, not understanding where his grandfather was going with this.    
  
“Okay,” he said slowly, “and you want me to...”   
  
“They’re behind on their payments,” his grandfather huffed, “you need to go to Deadrock and either come back with an up to date payment or the property lease, signed over to the bank.”   
  
Marius heart sank, he really didn't want to do this. Of all the things that the bank did, this hurt the most, "What if I don't want to go?" he asked testing the waters.

“You could always stay here,” Grandfather Gillenormand began and Marius perked up, at least until he continued, “and issue loans with Alexandre.”

Marius looked over at Enjolras, who gave him a mild smile. The look in the blonde’s eyes told a different story. He looked back at his grandfather. 

“When do I leave?”   
  


—————

  
Cosette Fauchelevent had been in Deadrock, Nevada for as long as she could remember. She knew no other life outside of the small desert town. She had never known her father, Cosette had been raised by her mother Fantine and a man who wasn’t actually related to her but whom she called grandpapa, Jean Valjean. He was as much like a father as she ever had and she loved him dearly. He spent his days quietly in the theatre building turned post office, recalling past times when the town was in its heyday.   
  
There were few still around who remembered such a time in Deadrock. Although it had never been the largest city, there was a time when Deadrock drew in crowds of tourists to see shows at the Musain Theatre. And the biggest draw for those crowds was the theatre’s leading lady, Fantine. It was as much for her beauty as for her talents. Her long golden hair piled elegantly a top her head, her blue eyes flashing brilliantly. Her Papa loved telling stories about those days, about how wonderful everything had been. Until the stock market crashed and everything changed.

Cosette had vague memories of seeing her mother perform, but she’d been young when the crash happened and Fantine stopped being on stage soon after, not just because the people stopped coming but also because she got sick. And as Fantine withered away, so did the city of Deadrock until it was nothing but a one-horse town with a rundown theatre that sapped all of her Papa’s resources. Few people remained in the town these days. It was the kind of place that everyone knew what everyone else was doing. What made it worse was that Cosette had absolutely no female company to commiserate with, a fact that became more and more frustrating the older she got. Not that Cosette couldn’t hold her own against the boys. In fact, she was probably the toughest one of the bunch. But sometimes she just felt down right bored and lonely in this sleepy, small town. Where nothing ever seemed to change.

The day began like any other, Cosette rising early in the morning so that she could make her way to the only train station for at least a hundred miles in any direction. There, she would meet the train carrying the day’s mail. The Musain Theatre now served as the town's post office, although Valjean had refused to do any internal renovations, not that they had the money for that sort of thing. They didn’t get a lot of mail in Deadrock anyway, but every so often something would come in. Cosette didn’t mind the early wake-up time, she liked the quiet. Especially when as she walked the sun slowly rose in the sky, filling it with colors. It was the best time to be outside in Deadrock, before the heat of the day. By the time she returned to the theatre the sun had dispersed all the colors leaving a clear, brilliantly blue sky.

“Mail call!” she hollered as she entered the town square.    
  
Beside the theatre was the Corinthe Saloon, where the majority of the townsfolk spent a large chunk of their days. There wasn’t really much to do in such a small town.

"Hey Cosette," Courfeyrac called from the porch where he'd been leaning against the railing. "Anything for me?"

Cosette glanced through the small stack of letters in her hands.   
  
“‘Fraid not, Courf,” she said apologetically. 

"Darn it all," Courfeyrac sighed whipping off his hat.

“I don’t know why you care so much,” said Grantaire, the owner of the Corinthe, standing by the saloon door with his arms crossed, “Nothing good ever comes in the mail.”   
  
"A guy can dream can't he?" Courfeyrac pouted.   
  
There were a few things for various other people before Cosette came to a rather official-looking envelope addressed to Jean Valjean.    
  
“Papa got a left from New York,” Cosette said, frowning at the return address she didn’t recognize.    
  
Bossuet bounded up to her wearing a huge grin, nearly tripping over his own feet, “Can I have the stamp for my collection?”   
  
“Well sure, Boss,” Cosette replied, carefully peeling off the stamp and handing it to him, “I didn’t know you collected stamps. How many have you got?”   
  
“With this one?” Bossuet thought for a moment, “One!”   
  
Cosette rolled her eyes. “Good luck with your collection,” she laughed. 

Bossuet grinned and left in the direction of the town physician’s office, undoubtedly to show the stamp to Dr Joly. 

“What’s in the letter?” Courfeyrac asked, “If it’s all the way from New York it’s gotta be important.”   
  
Cosette tore open the envelope and pulled out a letter. She skimmed it quickly. 

She began to frown, “It’s from the bank about our theater...”

“Maybe you’ll be able to get rid of that money-waster,” Grantaire deadpanned. 

Cosette turned towards where he lingered by the door of his saloon and glowered. Grantaire raised his hands in surrender. He had actually tried to buy the theatre from them before, planning to turn it into a hotel in the hopes of bringing in more tourists. 

“You just don’t understand,” Cosette replied, “sometimes there’s more to life than money.” “Let me know when you find out what,” Grantaire shot back before slipping in to the saloon.    
  
“Don’t mind him, Cosette,” Bahorel said, “he hasn’t had his morning whiskey yet.”

Cosette shook her head and turned her attention back to the letter. She knew that the payments for the theatre took a lot out of her papa, but she hadn’t really realized how much. And now with this notice of reposition, instead of feeling sad she just felt angry. With the letter in hand, she stormed to the theatre where Jean Valjean was doing his daily tasks of keeping the place clean. 

“The bank’s sending some jerk to take our theatre!” Cosette fumed.    
  
“Some jerk?” Her Papa asked.   
  
“A city slicker named Marius Pontmercy,” Cosette’s nose crinkled.   
  
Valjean let out a small snort of amusement, either at the name itself or at the way Cosette said it.    
  
“Papa,” Cosette sighed, “he’s not really gonna take it is he? We can do something, right?”

Valjean heaved a large breath, leaning slightly against the handle of his large broom.    
  
“Papa?” Cosette tried again.    
  
“I’m afraid that he very well could,” her papa said sadly, “even with the post office, it’s been difficult to keep up with the the payments.”

Cosette’s heart sank, she didn’t want to lose this place. It was almost like the old building was a part of her family.

“I won’t let them take it,”  Cosette said vehemently, “I’ll give this Mr Pontmercy a piece of my mind and send him cryin’ back to his mama.”   
  
Valjean chuckled, “I have no doubt that you will put the fear of god in him.”   
  
Cosette deflated slightly and looked towards the only father she had ever known.    
  
“I can’t let them take away my only connection to my mother.”   
  
She looked around the building’s old lobby where dome of the grandeur still remained.   
  
“Cosette!” A voice hollered from outside.   
  
Cosette let out a sigh, “Duty calls, I suppose the boys need me for sumthin’.”

“Hold on a moment, I’ll walk out with you,” Valjean said, “I should be getting to the post office anyway.”   
  
After Valjean put the broom away, Cosette held her elbow out to her papa and he hooked his arm through hers for the short walk out of the theatre auditorium.    
  
A large number if guys were standing over something, looking more like a bunch of buzzards. As she got closer she realized it was a young man who’d collapsed in the middle of the street.   
  
“Has anyone gone to fetch Joly or Combeferre?” Cosette asked.

“Bahorel has,” replied Feuilly, “but since both he and Bossuet are over there, nobody can get this guy off the ground.”   
  
Cosette rolled her eyes, “Alright, everyone move out of the way.”   
  
The crowd parted like the Red Sea to let her through and she nudged the young man in the side slightly with the toe of her boot. He rolled to the side slightly, attempting to look up at her. Well, at least he was alive. Cosette watched as the young man slowly raised his head, eyes wide.   
  
“Pretty...” He spoke softly, “are you an angel?”

Cosette raised an eyebrow, “Sure, buddy, let’s get you up.”   
  
The man let out a soft giggle as Cosette hoisted him up.   
  
Behind her Courfeyrac was howling with laughter.


	3. Could You Use Me

Marius couldn’t believe his luck. He was walking with his arm around the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Well, sort of. It was more like being helped along into the blessedly cooler interior of a saloon, but Marius figured that it still had to count for something. He blinked a few times after being dumped in a chair.

“What?” he said eloquently, looking around. 

He could tell by the fact that the saloon was so full this early in the day that this town probably didn’t have much to do. In the corner there was an upright piano, but it was covered in a layer of dust, making Marius believe that it hadn’t been played in some time.

“You alive?” someone asked.

Marius looked around trying to find the voice, “Huh?”

“You don’t look so good is all,” a young man commented, coming to take the seat opposite of him.

From the corner of of the saloon Marius could hear raised voices arguing about something by the bar.

“I’m Feuilly,” the young man said. 

Before Marius could introduce himself, there was the clattering sound of a chair falling to the ground.    
  
“Cheating again!”   
  
He turned to look. Two men who had been playing cards at a table right next to the bar were now standing and glaring at each other. One’s chair was on the ground and the cards were scattered across the table.    
  
“I won’t stand for this a minute more!” 

One of the men whipped out a pistol, Marius’s heart began to beat fast. He glanced at his companion who seemed completely unfazed by it all.

“Then stop standing,” the other man snarled, pulling out his own pistol and shooting in one swift motion. 

The first man dropped to the floor and Marius nearly jumped out of his skin. The bar was quiet for a moment when all of a sudden he rose to his feet again. Marius’s heart was still pounding in his ears and now his mouth fell open in shock.    
  
“W-What?” he whispered.    
  
“How was that, Grantaire?” the man who had been shot asked the one behind the bar.

“Not your best,” the man called Grantaire grumbled while cleaning glasses, “you need to really sell it.

“Aw, man,” the man groaned, slumping back in his seat, “you just set the bar too high, Courfeyrac. I can never match it.”

“What can I say, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac said, “I’m just too good.”   
  
“What the heck,” said Marius, louder than he had initially intended and drawing the attention of both Courfeyrac and Combeferre.    
  
“Oh, hey, you’re alive,” Courfeyrac said, “Ferre, that’s the guy who was collapsed in the street.”   
  
“Why didn’t you say so before,” Combeferre huffed, smacking Courfeyrac on the arm before striding over to Marius, who felt the urge to cower away, “I’m one of the doctors in this town. I was at my office when you arrived. How are you feelin’?”

“Alright I suppose...” Marius replied, “but what was with all the guns, and shooting?”

“Gunfights of the old west,” Combeferre replied, “that was Wyatt Earp vs Billy the Kid.”

“It’s supposed to bring in the tourists,” Feuilly drawled, the last word becoming elongated.

Marius blinked, clearly confused at the idea.

“Has it worked?” he asked.    
  
Feuilly looked around the saloon, “Everyone who’s in here lives in Deadrock except for you. So I’d say that’s a no.”   
  
“Huh,” Marius drummed his fingers against the table top.

“So, what are you doing in Deadrock anyway?” Combeferre asked, “I’m assuming you weren’t drawn in by the Old West gunfights.”   
  
Before Marius could say anything about his true purpose, _she_ walked in to the saloon. The angel. The woman of his dreams. And then she made her way towards him and his brain got a little fuzzy. Marius shot up and nearly tripped over his own feet.    
  
“Woah, there,” the woman chuckled, “you’re like a newborn foal.”

She placed a hand on his arm to steady him and Marius seemed to completely lose the power of speech and thought.    
  
“What’re you doing collapsing in our town square?” the woman asked, “It’s only a five mile walk from the train station, it’s not really—“   
  
Marius wasn’t sure what came over him, but he surged forward and kissed the woman he had just met square on the lips. It took a long moment before she made a noise in her throat and pushed him away.    
  
“What the hell was that for!?” she exclaimed.    
  
“I...I don’t know,” Marius replied, a dopey grin overtaking his face.    
  
“Well, don’t do it again!” the woman fumed, “Hey, R, get me something to wash my mouth out.”   
  
“You got it,” replied Grantaire.    
  
Marius watched in fascination as the woman hitched up her pants and marched over to the bar. Grantaire slid a bottle down to her, which she caught easily, opened with a flick of her wrist, and took a big swig.    
  
“Wow...” Marius whispered to himself.    
  
He really wanted to impress this obviously impressive woman. So he also hitched up his pants and followed her path to the bar. She was watching in mild amusement.    
  
He cleared his throat, “Same for me, R.” The man leveled Marius with a look until he flushed slightly and added, “Please.”   
  
When he slid the bottle across the bar, he passed right by Marius’s hand and headed towards the end of the bar. With only a mild scramble, Marius caught it before it fell. Opening the bottle was the next mission, which Marius attempted multiple times before the bartender put him out of his misery. When Marius tried to take a swig, he almost spit it back out again and his voice came out a little strained.    
  
“A bit strong,” Marius coughed. 

“That’s real Nevada moonshine,” Grantaire replied calmly, but hardly what I’d call my best batch.”  
  
Marius looked at the bottle feeling slightly ill.  
  
The woman let out a laugh taking another swig from her drink. Marius glanced back towards the piano, clearly there was no way he could muster up enough of a rough and tough attitude to compare to others in town, but there was one thing he could do he figured they couldn’t. The only problem was there was no one to play the...  
  
Marius stopped, noticing the drawer on the front of the piano behind the ledge to hold music. He slowly made his way towards the piano.  
  
“Does this thing work?” Marius asked.  
  
“On occasion,” Grantaire replied blithely.  
  
Once he got to the piano he looked at the keys, if it all was there, one of the keys would start the roll that was inside. Marius loved player pianos, the ability to have the music without actually having to play it himself. It was good for practicing dancing. Despite having no idea what was on the roll he was sure he could think of something to do. He’d just let the music guide him, after all that’s usually what he did anyway. He gave an experimental press on on of the highest keys, which instead of playing made a loud click and the roll inside started moving. Marius grinned brightly, feeling his energy return to him. If the sudden music hadn’t drawn the attention of everyone in the saloon, Marius beginning to dance surely did. It wasn’t anything complicated, just feeling the rhythm and moving his feet. He didn’t have his taps on, but the hard soles of his shoes on the wooden floor was close enough. The floorboards creaked and groaned as he moved, almost knocking over a couple of chairs. As he turned he caught sight of her, she was actually watching him, and smiling?

“Dance with me?” he offered, holding out his hand and not ceasing his improvised routine.

“Oh I...” her face turned red but she did take his hand.

He began to twirl her around the saloon, taking care not to bump into tables, the tinkling sound of her laughter making his heart swell with joy. He didn’t care that the others in the saloon were staring at him. Perhaps this time in Deadrock was what he needed. It might help him get over his failure with Zangler and maybe for a little while he could not think about the bank and his grandfather. Some clicking told him the track was going to be coming to an end soon. So Marius decided to finish with a bang. He broke away from his dancing partner and whirled his way into the same big finish he had performed for Zangler. He would land it this time, he was sure of it. His timing was a little off, a few seconds after the piano roll ended, but he ended with a flourish. Marius wasn’t expecting any sort of response, but the sarcastic slow clap from Grantaire was a nice surprise.   
  
“That’s pretty good,” the girl commented nodding.  
  
“Thanks,” Marius said, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I always wanted to be a performer.”  
  
The woman looked away for a moment, biting her lip.   
  
“C’mon,” she said finally, “I gotta show you something.”  
  
Marius followed her out of the saloon to the building next door. Immediately he recognized it as a theatre despite the sign that touted it was a post office, Marius’s heart began to sink. The woman led him past the post office around the side of the building to a different door.   
  
“This way,” she held open the door for Marius.

Once the door was closed behind them, the inside of the theatre was dark. She grabbed Marius’s wrist and began to pull him further inside. They’d obviously entered somewhere backstage, Marius could vaguely see the outlines of the curtains. Then she let go and was gone.    
  
“Wait!” Marius said.    
  
“I’m getting the lights,” she told him, “hold on.”   
  
Soon the lights flooded the stage, sure it was a little worse for wear but it was still beautiful.

“Oh, wow,” Marius breathed, craning his neck to look around. 

He wasn’t looking where he was going and stumbled over a slightly raised floorboard.    
  
“Watch it,” she warned.

“This place is amazing!” Marius said, “I can’t imagine why anybody would give up the chance to come here.”

“There ain’t much call for it these days,” she shrugged, “things took a downturn when the mines ran out, I don’t even remember that time but my Papa does,” she explained. “Then this Depression hit, and well you know...” she added.

Marius nodded, his brain working a mile a minute. 

“You can’t let the bank take this place,” he said.    
  
The woman frowned, “How’d you know about that.”   
  
“Uh, I heard it,” Marius replied, “from someone in the saloon. You know, I bet that if you put on a show you’d easily make all the money you need to keep this place.”   
  
“Puttin’ on a show is all well and good, but if there’s nobody to come and see it then what’s the point?” she asked, “Who’s gonna want to come all the way out here and how could we even reach them?”   
  
“I know somebody who could get the crowds here,” Marius said, “Bela Zangler.”   
  
The woman laughed, “Bela Zangler? That big shot producer? No way are we going to get his help.”   
  
“I’ll have you know that Bela Zangler and I are very close,” Marius blurt out.    
  
The woman furrowed her brows, “Really? How close would that be?”   
  
“We’re like...” Marius held his two pointer fingers close together then moved them apart about four inches, “that. Trust me, I can get him to help no problem.”   
  
“That would be incredible,” she replied, “and to think, I don’t even know your name and you’re offering this help to save the theatre. I’m Cosette Faunchelevent.”   
  
When she grabbed his hand to shake it, Marius felt his heart flutter. Cosette. It was such a beautiful name and it fit her perfectly.    
  
“Marius Pontmercy,” he introduced.    
  
Cosette released his hand as if burned, “Pontmercy? Wait a minute...you’re from the bank!”

Marius barely had any time to process her revelation before the smacked him across the face.   
  
“And to think for a I second I truly believed you!” she huffed.

“What? Wait!” Marius’s called as Cosette began to storm away.    
  
“You get the hell out of my town, Mister, and don’t let me catch your face here again!” Cosette fumed.    
  
Marius was shocked, and his face hurt from the violent strike. What was he going to do now? He certainly couldn't possibly go through with what his Grandfather had sent him there to do, but how could he convince Cosette to do a show to save the building when clearly she was never going to speak to him again.   
  
“Hopeless,” Marius groaned to himself. He was resigned to just leave, go back to New York and have his grandfather send somebody else.    
  
As he was leaving, he saw a wooden trunk, propped open and filled with what looked like costume pieces. Beside the trunk was cane with a large plastic jewel on the top. It reminded him of the cane that Montparnasse would carry around when he was being Zangler. There was an idea forming in his mind, an idea so crazy that it just might work.    
  
"Vell, vell, vell," Marius grinned trying his best hammy, vaguely Eastern European accent, "if he can do it, why can't I?"


	4. Slap That Bass

Combeferre was at the medical practice when it happened, patching up one of Bossuet’s many and common injuries sustained during his everyday life simply by virtue of being Bossuet. He'd long since stopped inquiring as to just how he managed to get so many throughout the course of the day.    
  
"Combeferre!" a voice yelled in the distance, "get out here! And come quick!"   
  
Deadrock was a sleepy town so it wouldn't take much to rile anyone up into a frenzy. So he didn't think it was all that necessary for him to stop what he was doing.   
  
"Combeferre!" the voice he now recognized as Courfeyrac hollered, "I know you're in there!"

The doctor didn’t so much as flinch when the door burst open to reveal Courfeyrac, even more excitable than usual. 

“Hello, lovely day isn’t it?” Combeferre said mildly, continuing to wrap a cloth bandage around a cut on Bossuet’s forearm.    
  
“Yes, sure, the day and all that,” Courfeyrac dismissed, “that’s not important. There are girls, Ferre, a lot of them. They came in out of the desert like a mirage.”

"What have I told you about getting dehydrated?" Combeferre glanced at the other man.

“It’s not a hallucination!” insisted Courfeyrac. 

Combeferre raised an incredulous eyebrow.    
  
“Or if it is,” Courfeyrac continued, “then it’s affecting the whole town and there’s something in the whiskey. In which case, you’d better come anyway.”   
  
Combeferre tied off the bandage and heaved a sigh.    
  
“What do you say, Boss,” he said to Bossuet, “shall we see whether Courfeyrac has finally lost his mind?”

Bossuet let out a deep laugh and stood to his feet, "Might as well."

So the two of them followed Courfeyrac out onto Main street, and surprisingly it turned out for once Courfeyrac had not been over exaggerating. There was a group of young women, all stunningly beautiful. It was a bit of a novelty for Deadrock as Cosette was the only woman for miles. Not that Cosette wasn’t beautiful, but Combeferre wasn’t interested in her romantically. They’d practically grown up together. These women were nothing like Combeferre had ever seen, other than on the occasional  magazine or newspaper that could be found. Hair piled on top of their heads, wearing vibrantly colored dresses, and seeming to move almost as one. Courfeyrac disappeared from his side almost immediately, joining the gaggle of men from the town who were attempting to talk to the women while Bossuet simply gawked. Combeferre made his way over to the door of the saloon where Grantaire was leaning against the outside wall. 

“Well this is an interesting development,” Combeferre muttered.   
  
“It’s certainly something,” Grantaire  replied. 

He had admit it probably was the most exciting thing to happen in Deadrock since...ever. And the fact that the women seemed to be responding positively to the undoubtedly clumsy flirting of the townsfolk was just a benefit. There was one with long dark hair who seemed content to just look everything over while the other’s flitted about excitedly. By this point, Cosette and her father had made their way out of the post office, obviously drawn out by the commotion. There weren’t many in Deadrock, but Combeferre was certain they were all out on the street watching the display. That was when a male voice made itself known. 

  
“I must know,” the voice said, the accent some kind of European, “who owns this lovely theatre?”   
  
The women fell silent almost instantly, falling into some kind of formation around the man, who had a mop of dark hair and a mustache. Combeferre couldn’t believe his eyes, he was certain that he recognized this man. Seen him on a newspaper or something.   
  
“Bela Zangler...” the voice on Jean Valjean came from behind him as he went to greet the man.

The man turned on his heel, as if surprised to be recognized. 

“You...know me?” the stranger, apparently Zangler, said slowly.    
  
“The greatest theatrical producer of all time,” Valjean replied, taking the hand the Zangler wasn’t using to hold a cane with a jeweled handle and shaking it vigorously, “I am the owner of this little theatre. This is my daughter, Cosette.”   
  
His hand still clasped in Valjean’s, Zangler looked towards Cosette. Something flashed briefly in his eyes.    
  
“Are you really him?” Cosette asked, “Bela Zangler?”   
  
“The very same,” Zangler responded, finally managing to extract his hand from Valjean’s, “Marius Pontmercy mentioned you to me.”   
  
“Marius Pontmercy?” Cosette repeated, “You know him?”   
  
“Know him?” Zangler said incredulously, “We are like...” he held his pointer fingers close together and then moved them a couple inches apart, “that!”   
  
Cosette seemed excited, thrilled even, “That’s what he said!”   
  
“Oh course he did,” Zangler let out a laugh, “anyway I expect you would like to know why I’m here.”   
  
“Not that we mind you visiting our little town,” Valjean assured.    
  
“I am here,” Zangler said, pausing dramatically, “to save your theatre!”   
  
There was complete silence for a long moment that was broken only by Grantaire’s sarcastic snort and huff of laughter.

“My friend Mr. Pontmercy told me about your little situation and I figured I could help,” Zangler added, “so me and ze girls packed up and here we are!”

“As simple as that?” Cosette asked. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Grantaire muttered.    
  
“Vell we have some time before our next season, and I like a challenge,” Zangler chuckled.   
  
“You’re wasting your time,” Grantaire called out, “Nobody cares about this town or its theatre. No matter how many big shot producers randomly decide to show up for no apparent reason.”

“Vell,” Zangler swung his cane around, “we won’t know till we try.”

“Have fun wasting your money,” scoffed Grantaire, “Doesn’t matter to me as long as your wait until after paying your bill to go broke.”

“Bill?” asked Zangler.    
  
“Mine’s the only inn in town,” Grantaire told him, “so see you later mister Zingle.”   
  
“Zangler,” the man in question corrected.    
  
“Whatever.” Grantaire rolled his eyes and ducked into the saloon.    
  
“Vhat a...charming gentleman,” Zangler said.

Cosette approached him, “So you’ll really do it?” she asked.

“Of course!” Zangler told her, “Ladies?”

“Yes, Mr. Zangler?” The women chorused.    
  
“Go to theatre, see vhat is there,” the producer commanded, “Work begins now!”   
  
“Yes, Mr. Zangler!” the women chorused again, chattering happily as they followed Cosette into the theatre.

“Alright,” Zangler decided to address the remaining men in the square, “who would like to be a part of a Bela Zangler?”

None of the men moved an inch, Combeferre chuckled lightly as this was to be expected.

“You’ll be part of a magic experience,” Zangler continued, “the experience of theatre, of performance.”

The townsfolk were unmoved and some even began to turn away.    
  
Zangler sighed, “You get to dance with pretty girls.”

At that there was a veritable stampede of cowboys into the theater all hooting and hollering as they went.

Combeferre hesitated, debating whether or not he should join them. Then he saw the dark-haired woman stay back for a moment to talk to Zangler before also going into the theatre. Combeferre was walking in the same direction before he even realized it.

—————

Eponine was pleasantly surprised with the theater, given the frantic nature of Marius’s telegram she hadn’t known just what to expect. The place had been beautiful once, she could see it in the architecture and the rich red of the velvet curtains. Sure the floors were warped and dusted gathered everywhere but she loved it. She looked toward Marius who was hastily giving out orders, seeming to have taken to the role Zangler nicely. She’s always known that he could be a good actor and this was the proof of it. He was more confident than she had ever seen him. Admittedly she’d been a little skeptical of the idea at first, but clearly she needn’t be.

“Ya, let’s get this place cleaned up!” Marius barked.

Showgirls and cowboys alike snapped to, finding brooms and clearing away dust, collecting the various costume pieces that could be found around the theatre and consolidating it all to one place. Eponine found herself working alongside a man wearing glasses who unlike the other men seemed rather quiet.

“You’re pretty handy with that broom,” Eponine commented.

“I’m a doctor,” the man in glasses said, “I know how to keep things cleaned.”   
  
“Nice to meet ya, Doc,” said Eponine.    
  
“Nice to meet you to Miss...”   
  
“It’s Eponine,” she provided.   
  
“I’m Combeferre,” the doctor offered in return.    
  
Eponine grinned slyly at him, “I’ll stick with Doc, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well,” Combeferre smiled in return.   
  
Eponine felt her heart flutter a little at that smile. Once the theater was clean it was time for rehearsal. That was when the fun began. For someone whose idea of fun was a complete disaster. There was one cowboy who had more left feet than everyone else combined. Even when some of the men seemed to be getting the dance moves, at least a little bit, this one was stepping all over poor Musichetta’s toes. Still Eponine watched as she valiantly attempted to break each move down for him, but she was certain that elephants on roller skates moved with more grace.

Eponine was about to step in when Marius did it for her. 

“Stop!”   
  
It took a few moment for the command to settle into some of their brains, but soon everyone was standing still.    
  
“You,” Marius said, pointing to the big cowboy, “here!”   
  
The man bounded over. He seemed kind of like an excited puppy, all grins.    
  
“What’s your name?” Marius asked.    
  
“Bossuet,” the cowboy replied.    
  
“Bossuet,” repeated Marius, “I have some good news and some bad news.”   
  
“What’s the bad news?” asked Bossuet.    
  
“You will no longer be dancing in this number,” Marius told him.    
  
Bossuet nodded slowly, “What’s the good news?”   
  
“You will no longer be dancing in this number,” repeated Marius with the exact same inflection.    
  
The grin on Bossuet face faded, “Oh...okay.”   
  
The rest of the girl let out a chorus of “aw”s at the dejected look on his face. Marius turned to Eponine and she simply gave a him an unhelpful look. This was his issue to deal with.    
  
"Alright big fella," Marius sighed trying to think of something when spotted something in the corner practically as tall as he was, "I've got something else we can try."

He signaled to Jehan and together the two of them dragged out an old upright bass. Some plucking determined that it was somehow still in tune and Marius gestured Bossuet over.    
  
“Try playing this,” Marius told him.    
  
Without any effort at all, Bossuet swung the bass up like guitar and began trying to strum it.    
  
“No no no, not like that!” Marius exclaimed, losing his Zangler accent for a moment before clearing his throat and guiding the bass back into the correct position, “Like this.”   
  
He plucked out a very simple and rhythmic beat.    
  
"Now you try," he directed Bossuet, who looked at instrument before trying to pluck out each note to the best of his ability. 

“Now,” Marius said, clapping his hands together, “for everyone else...”

But something was happening. Bossuet’s slow plucking started to become something a bit more upbeat and rhythmic. The cowboy’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration has he stared down at his fingers, experimenting with different positions and strings. He seemed to have some kind of intuitive knack for the instrument.    
  
"Now you've got it!" Marius proclaimed excitedly.   
  
The rest of rehearsal went quite well. Bossuet’s success with the upright bass seemed to inspire a new confidence in the other cowboys as well   
  
It seemed certain that they really could pull this show off, and make it a success.

—————

It almost frightened Marius how easily he’d taken to putting on the persona of Zangler. There was something about it that was thrilling. Not to mention, the moments when Cosette would peek in to the theatre, although she didn’t want to be involved in the actual production, simply made his day. But there were times he couldn’t wait for the end of the day and he could be himself again. To peel off the wig and finally remove the facial hair was so freeing. This was not without its own risks. Usually Marius would be able to hold off until he was safe in his room at Grantaire’s inn, but after a long day of rehearsing it was difficult. Especially when the burning heat made him sweat and the spirit gum became unbearable against his skin.

He was hoping that he could make it the short distance between the theatre and the inn without being seen, waiting until all the cowboys had left the room before starting to peel off the mustache. 

“Bela?”   
  
Marius barely stopped himself from flinching, pressing the mustache back against his skin even though it was already half off.    
  
“Cosette!” he said, pretending like he had been stroking his mustache in thought as he turned to face her. 

“I really wanted to take the chance to thank you, for all this,” Cosette began to blush, once again Marius breath was taken away by her beauty.

“Everybody should have the chance to enjoy the theatre,” Marius said, “no matter where they are in the country.”

Forgetting that he was holding on his false mustache, Marius gestured with his hand. Thankfully the spirit gum had retained some of its stickiness and the mustache stayed put, albeit precariously. 

It was clear Cosette had taken no notice of this.   
  
“You’re to kind and generous,” she replied.

“Well,” Marius said, mildly embarrassed and also trying to move him mouth as little as possible so as not to dislodge his mustache. 

The two of them remained silent for a moment, “I best get going,” Cosette said finally.

Before Marius could say anything, she leaned in a pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaving the theatre. Wide-eyed and blushing, Marius let out a sigh of breath. He didn’t even care that it sent his mustache fluttering to the ground. 

—————

Grantaire had never felt the pull to move to a large city. He liked the slow and steady feel of Deadrock, the familiar faces and chilled out attitude. Which was part of the reason he'd stuck around as long as he had. This place was all he'd ever known as home. And while his saloon might not really get busy until the evening, there was usually at least one person sitting inside at any given point in the day. He had to admit all things considered he was doing quite well for himself here in Deadrock, and he didn't want to upset the perfect equilibrium he'd created for himself. Grantaire couldn't think of anywhere else in the world he'd rather be. And while it might be nice if Zangler and Cosette’s little scheme actually succeeded in the sense that it might make him more money, Grantaire didn’t have high hopes. Or any hopes, for that matter. Besides he already had ideas of his own on exactly what to do with the theater.

Grantaire was sweeping the sand off of the saloon’s front porch, a kind of pointless task that he liked to do every so often regardless of how quickly the sand was replaced with more, when the stranger arrived. Having one stranger show their face was odd enough, regardless of how quickly that Marius fellow had left, but having another show up within only a handful of days? That was just downright uncanny. Especially considering that this new man was wearing a three-piece suit despite the heat. It did look a little worse for wear, although the man did not. Unlike that Marius kid who'd collapsed in the midst of town this man looked as if he'd stepped off the pages of a Woolworth's catalog. His hair in order, and steely blue eye boring straight into Grantaire's soul.  
  
"I require a room," he spoke up, taking in his surroundings as he approached.  
  
“Right,” Grantaire said slowly.   
  
The man raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “This is an inn, is it not?”  
  
Grantaire shook his head slightly, attempting to bring himself back to his senses.   
  
“It is,” he replied. 

Then man narrowed his gaze looking up the the weather worn sign.   
  
"It's the only one for about fifty miles," Grantaire added folding his arms across his chest.

“Then I reiterate,” said the stranger tartly, “I require a room.”   
  
Grantaire wasn’t a fan of the attitude and gave a few more sweeps of the porch, just to see the man’s eye twitch in annoyance, before leading the man inside the saloon. 

"Alright, we've got the standard the luxury suite, the honeymoon getaway," he began listing off amenities that the saloon never had and never would.

As Grantaire spoke, the man’s eyebrows rose higher and higher. 

“How much will all that cost me?” he asked.    
  
“Dollar fifty a night,” Grantaire replied.    
  
The man sighed, “And, dare I ask, how many of the things you just listed will I actually receive?”   
  
"As many as your little mind can conjure up city boy," Grantaire replied smirking.    
  
The man pursed his lips, obviously unimpressed, “Start a tab, although I don’t expect to be here long.”   
  
Grantaire leaned against the bar, “I’ll need some collateral and a name, handsome.”   
  
“What?” the man sputtered.    
  
“Collateral so I can be sure you won’t leave without paying,” Grantaire told him, “and I name so I don’t have to keep calling you Apollo in my head.”   
  
The blonde blinked, “It’s Enjolras.”   
  
“That’s a funny name,” Grantaire smirked.   
  
“And I suppose yours is any better?” countered Enjolras.    
  
“Grantaire, at your service.” He made a mock bow, “You can call me R.”   
  
“And you can call  _ me _ Mr. Enjolras,” replied the blonde. 

"Alright now that we are on a more familiar basis here is your key, I'm sure you can find your way," Grantaire went to fetch the key.   
  
He dangled the key in front of the blonde who snatched it from his grasp before making his way up the stairs.   
  
"Have a nice day!" Grantaire called at him as he walked away, so maybe there were nice things outside of Deadrock, but clearly he didn't need to leave to get them.   



	5. Embraceable You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE SO SORRY THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY LATE. We really do try to keep out weekly schedule, but when you have a nine hour time difference getting synced up can be...challenging. Anyway, we're here now and we will strive to keep to the schedule (for our own sanity...)

Marius was on cloud nine. Rehearsals were going remarkably well despite their slow start and Cosette was dropping by the theatre so often that he was finally not tripping over himself in her presence. He liked the little smiles he saw on her face when he spotted her in the corner repairing the old costumes that he found. He was now even more certain that they'd be able to pull this off and save the theater. That was before he stepped into the saloon, ready to head up to his room for a nap before supper, and heard a familiar voice that he had hoped not to hear for some time. This person was arguing with Grantaire at the bar and Marius froze in fear. What was he doing here? Maybe, he thought, if he was very careful and very quiet he’d be able to sneak upstairs without being noticed. In his defense, Marius was doing quite well until he passed through Grantaire’s eye-line. 

“Well, if it isn’t the town hero,” Grantaire exclaimed, raising his glass of whiskey towards Marius.    
  
“You,” said Enjolras, turning to face him, “I knew you would be here.”   
  
“You know Zangler?” asked Grantaire, one eyebrow raised, “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the theatre type.”

“That’s not Bela Zangler,” Enjolras narrowed his gaze at Marius.

Marius swallowed ready to make a run for it. Grantaire’s smirk simply widened, the look in his eyes downright malicious. 

“Oh reeeeally,” he drawled.

"I have no idea vat you are talking about," Marius stammered still making an attempt to maintain the accent.

“You’re not fooling anybody, Pontmercy,” Enjolras said, “Your grandfather needs you to come back to the City immediately.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marius inched towards the stairs.

Just as Enjolras was about to speak again, the saloon door spring open to let in basically the entirety of the town for a post-rehearsal drink. During the hubbub, Marius slipped upstairs and into his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it as if Enjolras would try to kick it down. When nothing happened for ten minutes Marius let out a deep sigh of relief. It would certainly put a damper on things, having Enjolras around, but if Marius was able to just avoid him at least long enough to get them through to opening night, then he could go back to New York with the ticket sales that would convince his grandfather to leave the Musain Theatre alone. Yes, he’d just have to deal with Enjolras later, Marius decided, although he wasn’t quite sure how.

 

—————

 

Cosette had never anticipated this, not even when Bela had first walked into town and announced that he would save the theatre. But now they were only a few short days away from opening night and all spirits were high. Especially Cosette’s. She didn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father so happy to enter the theatre. It was like a trip back through time, and clearly their hard work was paying off. Instead of being coated in dust and cobwebs the theatre was gleaming and warm. She started to see why her father held on so fondly to those memories of the past.

And he was telling more stories too, about her mother. Sure there were his few favorites that were brought out so many times that everyone had heard them at least five times, but new stories were emerging as well, stories that he seemed to have forgotten until the theatre came to life again. And it was all thanks to him, Bela Zangler...Cosette smiled at the very thought of the man. He had done so much for their small town of Deadrock, and she was certain she'd be forever grateful to him. She also had to admit that there was just something about him. He was certainly younger than she’d imagined the few times her father had mentioned him. He was also rather charming in a sort of awkward way. Until he was directing, then the awkwardness seemed to melt away. She couldn’t help but feel that she was falling for him hard and fast. This was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. And that made her want to shout her feelings from the rooftops. Although, she reasoned, it would probably be best to talk to the man in question first and make sure he felt the same. She was pretty sure that he did, but having no experience in these matters she wasn’t completely positive. 

She figured she’d get him alone after rehearsal was over and talk to him then. Hopefully before he ducked out and went back to the saloon. When she ducked into the theatre auditorium, the rehearsal was still in full swing. The Follies were already in their glittering costumes and the men seemed to be doing fine with all of the dancing as far as Cosette could tell. She had to admit it was fascinating to watch a group of men who usually were content with just lazing about town, get up on stage and perform. It were these little things that were changing the town of Deadrock, reviving it to what it once was all those years ago. And even after they finished and hit their final poses and Cosette had to restrain herself from bursting into applause, the heightened energy remained. You almost could believe that the groups of people on the stage didn’t come from two very different worlds. 

“Alright we break for lunch now, ya?” Zangler declared with a sharp rap of his cane against the stage floor.

The room dissolved into a multitude of conversations and a Cosette started to make her way towards Zangler. He was having a conversation with one of the girls while Combeferre stood off to the side trying to seem like he wasn’t waiting for her, so Cosette didn’t rush over right away. She kept him in the corner of her eye to make sure he didn’t run off while still stopping to talk to people who caught her attention.

When finally the moment arose Cosette sidled over towards Zangler, “I hope you weren’t thinking about leaving just yet,” she smiled.

Zangler glanced over at the girl he had been talking to, but she was now well into a conversation with Combeferre, her arm hooked through his. 

“Love seems to be in the air,” Cosette commenter.    
  
“Ya?” Zangler said weakly, “I suppose that is so...”

“It’s a nice feeling don’t you think?” Cosette stepped closer to Zangler. Then, feeling bold, she reached for his hand. “All this joy and happiness, it’s all kinda catching.” She smiled.

“Uh.”

He glanced down at her hand where it was resting on his and Cosette could see him swallow.

“Perhaps we could discuss this later,” Zangler’s voice became high pitched, “in the saloon when everyone else is there.”

“Bela,” Cosette sighed, “I’m trying to tell you that I’m falling in love.”

Zangler froze, wide-eyed, “Love?”

“Yes love,” Cosette repeated, “is that really so hard to understand?”

“Is it that Grantaire fellow?” Zangler asked, “Because I don’t like the way he-“

“It’s not R,” Cosette rolled her eyes.

“Bossuet, then,” Zangler continued, “he’s...strong, I suppose. And surprisingly good at the bass.”

“It’s nobody from town,” Cosette prompted.    
  
She thought that maybe he’d finally understood by the way his eyes shone with excitement.    
  
“It’s that Marius Pontmercy, isn’t it,” he said decidedly, ignoring the annoyed huff Cosette let out in favor of continuing, “he’s a good boy, I’ve always thought so.”   
  
“It’s you, Bela,” Cosette said, but Zangler wasn’t listening.    
  
“Of course I will put in a good with him for you,” he said, “he left here quite dejected, but I’m sure that-“   
  
“Bela!” Cosette interrupted and he looked at her in surprise at the raised voice, “It’s you.”   
  
“Me?” Zangler squeaked, “But Marius...”   
  
That’s when Cosette kissed him. When they broke apart she couldn’t help but think Bela’s mustache looked slightly askew. But that wasn’t possible, after all mustaches don’t just move on their own. Zangler looked like he might faint.    
  
“Wouldn’t you rather...” he began.    
  
“I’d rather you,” Cosette said.    
  
“But Marius...”   
  
“I was never interested in him,” Cosette interrupted, “he wanted to take away our theatre, you want to save it.”

Zangler gulped, “Perhaps we should talk about this.”

“You sayin’ you don’t like me that way?” Cosette asked. 

“No! Of course I’m not saying that!”   
  
Cosette grinned, “Then what’s there to talk about.”

"It's just....just that...."

Cosette placed her hands on her hips waiting for some sort of response. After a long moment of silence wherein Zangler looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, Cosette swore that she heard him mutter something along the lines of “what the hell” before spreading his arms wide as if in surrender. Cosette took that as a cue to kiss him again.

 

—————

 

When she saw Cosette approaching, especially the look on her face, Eponine decided to make her escape. Ignoring the pleading look Marius sent her, Eponine began to lead Combeferre away.    
  
“Come on, Doc,” she said, “why don’t you buy a girl a lunchtime drink.”

"If you insist," Combeferre held out his arm to her, which she gladly took appreciating the gentlemanly gesture.

They went to the saloon, of course, which Eponine didn’t mind at all. Grantaire had good drink and was a fun bit of friendly company when she needed it. Not that she needed it now, Combeferre was company enough.

The two of them grabbed a table to themselves near the piano, and Combeferre went to get their drinks.

"Anything in particular?" he asked.

“I trust you to pick something,” she told him. 

Combeferre smiled, flushing slightly, and headed over to the bar. Eponine took the chance to look around the saloon. Most of the girls were there in small groups with a cowboy or two. They had all been enjoying their time in the quiet desert town which was so drastically different from the hustle and bustle of New York City. It was nice to take it easy every once in awhile. As the one in charge, it was on Eponine to keep an eye on all the girls even when they were on vacation. As such, she tended to notice things. She certainly wasn’t going to stop the girls from having a flirt and some fun, she was doing the same, but it was always interesting to watch the dynamic anyway. She glanced over at 'Chetta who'd not only managed to snag the attention of one man, but two. Eponine smiled, to be completely honest she wasn't surprised with the predicament. Musichetta definitely had that kind of magnetism. Eponine was pleasantly surprised to see that even Jehan was getting his fair share of attention. She also found she greatly preferred the attention of this small town doctor over that of Montparnasse any day. Speaking of which, he was returning now. 

“I hope you weren’t too bored without me,” Combeferre said with a wink.    
  
Eponine smiled and leaned a bit closer when he sat down. Yes, she definitely liked it in this little town.    
  


—————

 

In another part of the saloon there was yet another couple conversing, however it was not a romantic sort of conversation. Not counting Grantaire’s general flirtiness, of course. Enjolras, in all of his posh and suited glory, seemed to be immune to those charms.  But it didn't mean that Grantaire wasn't going to keep trying, even if it was only to attempt to make this blonde haired Adonis squirm.   
  
"You enjoying our stay in town?" Grantaire asked.   
  
"It would be better if I could get my hands on Pontmercy," Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire smirked at the double entendre, “He seemed a bit to scatter-brained for my tastes.”   
  
Enjolras was confused for a moment and then gave Grantaire a sour look, but didn’t respond any further.    
  
“Why do you care so much, anyway,” drawled Grantaire, “let the boy have his fun. It’s not like it’ll succeed.”   
  
“That May be so, but it isn’t the point,” insisted Enjolras, “I was given a job to do and I will do it.”

Grantaire snorted, "I hate to break it to you that's not how things work around here."   
  
He noticed the way Enjolras was gripping the glass in his hand, his knuckles turning white, "Come on it's not all that bad."

Enjolras snorted, “Right. It’s too dusty, it’s too quiet, and it’s so damn rustic I can feel myself getting duller by the second just from proximity to these unwashed masses.”

"I don't think the gang would like being referred to as unwashed masses," Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras looked mildly contrite, but he didn’t actually say anything so it didn’t really count.    
  
“I need Pontmercy to be done with this foolishness so that I can go back to my life,” Enjolras said, “I’m wasting my time here.”

"Well then find something to occupy your time," Grantaire suggested.   
  
Enjolras looked around the saloon, "Like what?"

“I’m sure you can figure something out,” Grantaire said, “unless, of course, your proximity to me has made you too dull by now.”   
  
The sharp look Enjolras gave him in response was like nothing that Grantaire had ever seen before. 

“I don’t think that at all,” Enjolras said, “I admit that I may mildly enjoy your company.”

Grantaire raised his brow, "You do now?"

“Don’t read too much into it,” Enjolras sniffed. 

Grantaire chuckled, "Whatever you say."   
  


—————

 

Tension was high in the little town of Deadrock, it was opening night for the big show down at the old theatre. They'd worked so hard and now it was all going to pay off. Or at least that was what Marius was hoping.  They were making little last minute adjustments to things, trying to plan for things that might go wrong. If there was anything Marius had learned from his friendship with Eponine is was that there was always something that went wrong. But soon they were as prepared as they could be and everyone was waiting not-so-patiently for the daily train to get into the closest station. It would probably be another hour until those passengers arrived in Deadrock, but they all still waited with baited breath. 

"How big of a crowd do you think it's gonna be?" Courfeyrac asked coming up beside him.

"I couldn't say," Marius replied, his accent hard to maintain as he was so excited, "hopefully enough to pack this place full."

“Full?” Courfeyrac repeated, looking mildly more nervous that he had been a few moments previously.    
  
Marius clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Do not worry. You’ll be great. If you get nervous, imagine audience in underwear.”

"I don't know if that really makes me feel better," Courfeyrac mumbled.

But Marius wasn’t really paying attention. He had his focus trained on the entrance of town. He knew that they would arriving any minute now, the adoring crowds coming to see his masterpiece. As time passed even more of them were gathered there to wait, hoping for them to appear at any moment.

“Are they here yet?”   
  
Marius hadn’t heard Cosette’s approach and jumped slightly at her voice and how easily she slipped her hand into his. He glanced over at the saloon where even Enjolras had emerged to see what would happen and was now raising an eyebrow at their clasped hands.    
  
“Not yet,” Marius replied. 

Cosette smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, Marius heart was still beating fast in his chest. And then Feuilly came sprinting around the corner. 

“They’re here!” he said, breathless, “The train arrived, they’re here, they should be right behind me any second now.”

There was a flurry of movement as the town moved about in excitement. They all were watching, waiting for a large group to appear on the horizon. Finally, they entered the town. There were two of them, a man and a woman, dressed for travel and each carrying a large pack on their backs. Everyone who had gathered started chatting looks of confusion on their faces.

“Where’s everyone else?” someone called out.

“Everyone else?” the man asked, his words tinged with a French accent.

“From the train,” Cosette explained.    
  
“I don’t remember seeing anybody else,” the man said, “Do you, mon coeur?”   
  
The woman shook her head, “Non, I didn’t see anybody else. Well there was this one gentlemen, but we left him somewhere in the desert.”

Marius noted the slightly concerned look on Cosette's face at the mention of leaving a man in the desert.   
  
"So it's only you?" Cosette asked.

“I’m afraid so,” the man said, “My name is Gilbert du Motier and this is my wife Adrienne. We’ve come from France to explore your wonderful country.”   
  
“We heard about your little town and absolutely had to visit,” added Adrienne. 

"So you're not here for the show?" Courfeyrac asked.

“Show?” Gilbert asked with a frown, “I’m afraid not. We’re looking for the Corinthe Saloon and Inn?”   
  
There was a long moment of silence before a loud laugh broke through. It was Grantaire, of course, reveling in mirth. 

"Right this way, my good sir," he approached the couple.

Marius watched the smiles on everyone's faces start to disappear. The mood as Gilbert and Adrienne followed Grantaire inside was decidedly lower energy and palpably upset. After all he'd promised...He'd still failed them, most importantly he'd failed her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softly at first and then with more strength, “I’m sorry, everyone. This is my fault, I failed you all.”

There was a moment of silence as Marius accepted his fate. Apparently it was just not meant to be. “No you didn’t.”   
  
Marius blinked in surprise and looked up to meet Cosette’s defiant gaze.    
  
“You’ve helped us so much,” she said, “We’ve never come together and had this much fun as a town since...since...well, since ever!”   
  
There were some murmurs of agreement from everyone who was present.    
  
"You brought this town to life!" Cosette continued enthusiastically.

“You really think so?” Marius asked.   
  
“Well sure,” Bahorel put in, “we were living in such a rut for all this time.”   
  
“I never found something I was really good at until you came along,” added Bossuet, a little shyly. 

"It really was fun painting the sets," Feuilly said.   
  
"And learning to dance," Courfeyrac grinned.   
  
Marius slowly began to perk back up again.

“You brought happiness to a theatre that had not seen it for some time,” Jean Valjean told him, “and we owe you our gratitude.”

Marius could hardly believe what he was hearing, that despite the show having been a flop the town of Deadrock didn't seem to care. They were still grateful and happy. He had never felt so accepted before in his life.    
  


"Well just because there ain't no show doesn't mean we can't have fun!" Cosette declared.

And it was fun, a real party. Bossuet and the other musically inclined townsfolk played, Grantaire kept a running tab open for...somebody to pay at the end, and even Enjolras could be seen smiling although when he _was_ seen he quickly turned it into a scowl and retreated to his room at the inn. And through it all, none of them noticed a lone figure stumble into town, mumble some curses about the desert, and collapse.

  
  



	6. What Causes That

So even though the show was a failure it wasn't all bad, perhaps now Marius would be able to get Cosette to fall in love with him, instead of Bela Zangler.   
  
He whistled a merry tune as he gave himself a once over in the mirror, it felt like it had been so long since he'd been out around Deadrock as himself. (We need a chapter title)   
  
Marius smoothed his shirt one more time and, finally pleased with the way he looked, began to make his way down to the main saloon from his room at the inn. Many people were still spread around the saloon, drinking and having a good time. Cosette was sitting at a table with Jehan a couple of the other girls. Marius made his way over, taking a deep breath as he walked. 

"Mind if I join you?" he said sauntering over to the table.

Cosette looked up at him and the smile fell from her face as she stood.

“Marius Pontmercy,” she said calmly.   
  
Marius couldn’t help his grin, “You remember me.”   
  
"Course I remember the guy trying to take our theater," Cosette put her hands on her hips, "where you been hiding out?"   
  
Marius felt his face get red, "It's a bit of a funny story," he let out a laugh.

“What do you want?” Cosette sighed. 

Marius paused not sure how to say what is was that he wanted to say next. "Well I...I'm Bela Zangler."

Cosette let out a snort of laughter, "No you're not."

“I mean, I’m not the real Zangler, but I’m your Zangler,” Marius tried to explain.

Cosette blinked in confusion, "What do you mean?"

“I never wanted to take the theatre away, so I came back to save it. As Zangler.”

And Cosette looked like she may have been starting to believe him. He was caught up in his explanation that he didn’t notice when her expression changed or when Jehan tried frantically to get his attention. 

“All the stuff, the beard, the cane is up in my room!” Marius continued.

“Hi, Bela,” Cosette said, obviously directing it past him.    
  
Marius glanced over his shoulder and the real Zangler, looking similar to the way he himself had looked upon first entering Deadrock.    
  
“Hi Bela,” Marius echoed, then turned back to Cosette, “I can go and get them to...” his eyes widened and he whirled to face the new arrival.  

“Bela?” he squeaked.   
  
“That would be me,” Zangler replied primly.

Cosette strode over to him and, after deliberately looking at Marius to make sure he was watching, kissed him directly on the lips. Marius felt like he might faint, Zangler looked downright confused, and Cosette was smug.    
  
“Goodnight, Bela,” she crooned before leaving the saloon.    
  
“I need a drink,” Marius said faintly. 

Almost as soon as the words left his lips a bottle was placed in front of him.

 

—————

  
Eponine never would have expected to see Montparnasse show up in Deadrock. She wasn’t even sure why he’d come. But here he was, looking a little worse for wear following his excursion in the desert.

“Why hello Bela,” Eponine rolled her eyes.

“Eponine,” he said, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m on vacation, I can go where I want,” replied Eponine, “you don’t own me.”   
  
Montparnasse muttered something that Eponine couldn’t quite make out.   
  
“And what are you doing here?” she asked in return.

“Looking for you,” Montparnasse responded. 

Eponine raised her brow, "Really? And why is that?"

"Well I..."   
  
If Eponine didn't know any better she'd say that Montparnasse seemed nervous, which was so very unlike him.

“Bela,” Eponine began and then continued more softly, “Montparnasse. What is it?”

Montparnasse straightened his spine, "During our time working together... I have...Well I have become quite fond of you."

Eponine froze. Montparnasse had always flirted with her, but he flirted with all of the Follies. She never thought that it had gotten to that point. Her face began to flush, she'd certainly never had any interest in him. Montparnasse seemed to realize that he’d made a misstep. Eponine's gaze drifted to where Combeferre was chatting with Joly, and she couldn't help but think just how different the two men were.

She should have known that Montparnasse would notice, he was a pretty smart and savvy guy. 

“There’s a man here,” he said, “isn’t there.”   
  
Eponine nodded her head, "There is."

“And what’s so special about him?” Montparnasse asked her, “For that matter, what’s so special about this town?”   
  
"You know not everything has to as grand and as wild as New York City," Eponine put her hands on her hips, "sometimes a girl just needs a break from all that, to  come down to earth and spend some time with some nice, normal, healthy people."

“Now wait just a goddamned minute!”   
  
Both of them turned towards the voice, but Bahorel wasn’t speaking to them. Eponine could recognize the beginning of one of their little historical shootout reenactments and tried not to roll her eyes too hard. 

"I won't let you talk about my Josie like that!" he continued drawing out the prop pistol. 

  
But one glance at Montparnasse confirmed that he was clearly afraid of what was to come.

“I’ll talk about whoever I want however I want!” retorted Courfeyrac. 

Of course it was Courfeyrac. He always managed to find a way to be involved in every single one of these farces. He was born for the stage. Within ten seconds the sounds of blanks being fired filled the saloon space, and chaos erupted. 

Montparnasse dropped into a crouch at the first shot, his covering his head with his arms and Eponine flattened herself against the wall. They might be using blanks, but there was a hole in the player piano that had appeared at some point after one of these “shoot outs” so she wasn’t sure how much to trust that. One of the men stood up on a chair and screamed loudly before being "shot" and finally all was quiet. It only remained so for several long moments before everyone was climbing back to their feet, brushing off their clothes. 

“I think we got it this time!” Courfeyrac said, turning to Grantaire for confirmation.    
  
“Not bad,” Grantaire agreed.    
  
Eponine helped Montparnasse back to standing as he still seemed a little shaky.    
  
“Nice, normal, healthy people,” he muttered, “my ass.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Eponine shook her head, “I have better things to do.”    
  
She then proceeded to walk towards where Combeferre was dusting himself off. When she glanced over her shoulder at Montparnasse for a final time, he was sitting at one of the tables with his head in his hands. Eponine sighed. He’d be fine, back to his old self by the morning. She hooked her arm through Combeferre’s and they left the saloon. 

—————

It didn’t take long for everyone else to clear out of the saloon as well and move on with their night. And it was an empty saloon that Marius stumbled down to some time later. He had donned his Zangler disguise, desperate to show Cosette that he’d been telling the truth. But he was more than a little worse for wear when he finally made it. He barely even registered the only other occupant in the bar. Also, he needed another drink. Or maybe a snack. He dragged himself down the stairs nearly his footing in the process. Marius made his unsteady way to the bar, using various chairs and tables to keep himself upright along the way. 

Making his way behind it he nearly tripped on the small step up. He frowned. Why were there so many stairs in this place? It was definitely a conspiracy against him. He poked around the bar not sure what he was looking for. Then he spotted the canvas bag where Grantaire kept the peanuts. He grabbed a large handful and made his way over to a table, dropping down heavily into one of the chairs. There was a loudly heaved sigh and Marius frowned in confusion because it hadn’t come from him. He looked up and came face to face with another Zangler. Marius blinked in confusion, he thought that he was Zangler. He furrowed his brow, it was like looking into a mirror...Well more like a funhouse mirror than any sort of normal mirror. His reflection also frowned. Of course it did, it was a reflection after all. Although, Marius had no idea when this giant mirror had appeared in the middle of the saloon. 

Amused by this he continued to do things while watching his reflection. The reflection followed as Marius grabbed a bottle that had been left on the table and poured a glass of whatever was inside. When his reflection offered up his glass for a cheers, Marius blinked at the reflection moving on its own then shrugged and clinked his glass against the offered one.    
  
“Women,” sighed his reflection.    
  
“Women,” Marius sighed in response.    
  
He then proceeded to take a drink nearly sputtering from the taste as he did so. Marius put his glass down with a clink, and so did his reflection…although it seemed to spill a little. They both glanced at the small spill then back at each other before giving matching shrugs and downing their drinks. Marius didn’t actually remember much of the evening after that. 

When he awoke the next morning Marius could hardly remember where he was. But he was cold and uncomfortable with his neck feeling horrifically stiff.

“Pontmercy!”   
  
Marius groaned at the shout, even Cosette’s lovely voice sending piercing pain through his skull. He was never going to drink that much again.    
  
“Pontmercy, you got a telegram!”   
  
Marius carefully pulled himself to his feet, one inch at a time.    
  
“I got rhythm,” he sang quietly to himself, “I got music. I got...a headache.”   
  
He didn’t notice the way everyone was staring at him.    
  
“Oh, good morning Cosette,” Marius said, speaking in his normal voice, “a telegram for me? It’s probably from grandfather.”

And if he'd been less hungover he likely would have noticed all the stares he was receiving especially from Cosette whose mouth gaped open.   
  
"This is just what I need right now," Marius rolled his eyes.   
  
"Dear fathead, Stop.... Yep, good old Grandpa Gillenormand," Marius shook his head, instantly regretting it as the world began to spin. Once things had settled he continued to read, “Stop this nonsense...stop. This is your final notice...stop.”   
  
Marius chuckled and looked up at Cosette, still not realizing how much she was staring, “It reads like an electric bill.”   
  
He turned back to the missive in his hands, “Get back here in next train...stop. Don’t stop...stop. Will stop allowance if you stop...stop. Your loving grandfather...stop. P.S. Your cousin stopped by...stop.”

Marius was clearly still too amused to notice the other patrons who were staring at him.

“What?” Marius raised his brow looking around, “have I got something in my teeth?”

Then there was a groan from the floor a few feet away and the real Zangler slowly got to his feet. Cosette looked at him and then back at Marius. 

“I told you so?” Marius tried tentatively. He took off the fake mustache, “Ta da?”

The look of shock on Cosette’s face quickly faded into anger, “Why you!”

Marius made a rather poor attempt at trying to evade her fist.

“Ow!” Marius whined, “what was that for? I thought you loved me!”

“I love Bela, Zangler” said Cosette. 

“I  _ am _ Bela Zangler!” Marius insisted.    
  
“I thought I was Zangler,” said the man who had more recently woken up.    
  
“Well then who did I kiss last night?” Cosette asked.    
  
Both men raised their hands and Cosette groaned.

“Oh my god,” Cosette sighed.

“Wait she kissed you too?” the other Zangler asked.   
  
“Of course she did, we’re in love!” Marius replied indignantly.

“Will you just stop this?” Cosette stomped her foot.

“Stop what?” Zangler.   
  
“Stop whatever this is!” Cosette huffed all the while Marius was chuckling softly to himself.   
  
“What’s so funny?” Cosette glowered.   
  
“You sound just like my grandfather,” Marius laughed, immediately quieting when it looked like Cosette just might hit him again. 

“And you,” she said, pointing at him, “why would you trick me like that!”

“I wasn’t trying to trick you,” Marius said, “well I mean, I was about the whole Zangler thing, but I just wanted to help save the theatre. I didn’t expect you to fall in love with Zangler!”   
  
“Me?” the other man asked.    
  
“No, not you,” Marius told him, “the other Zangler.”   
  
That didn’t seem to help the real Zangler’s confusion, “There is third Zangler?”

“No,” Cosette looked distraught, “the one I cared about, the real Zangler-“

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Marius cut in.   
  
“So then _you_ are real Zangler?” Zangler looked even more puzzled and slightly ill.   
  
“No,” Marius replied, “but if you all would just listen-“   
  
“Wait,” Zangler stepped forward, “if you aren’t real Zangler, then who am I?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Cosette folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m not so sure,” Zangler confided, his own “European” accent slipping.

“Quiet!”

Marius didn’t tend to raise his voice, but at this point he’d had enough.    
  
“This is Bela Zangler,” he said, pointing to Zangler, “the  _ real _ Bela Zangler. I only pretended to be him so that I could help save the theatre!”   
  
He turned to Cosette, his tone sincere, “I never wanted to take it away, I’m just stuck under my grandfather’s thumb. I just...I just wanted to help.”    
  
“Well a fat lot of good that did!” Cosette snapped before storming out of the saloon.   
  
Courfeyrac who’d watched the whole scene unfold let out a low whistle, “I guess you won’t be coming to the meeting down at the theatre then?”   
  
“What meeting?” Marius asked.   
  
“To decide what to do,” Feuilly supplied, “Cosette’s think in selling the place...to R.”   
  
Marius heart beat fast, “She can’t do that! How much time do I have?”   
  
“About ten minutes,” Courfeyrac shrugged.   
  
“I need to get changed,” Marius decided nearly running over the real Zangler who was also climbing up the stairs.   
  
“Hold it,” Zangler called out, “are you going as you or me?”   
  
“Me!” Marius frowned.   
  
“Great, then I’ll go as me!” Zangler grinned before making another attempt to get into his room.

 

—————

 

If it were any other day, Grantaire would have been there watching the drama unfold. This day he was a little preoccupied. The few people he’d had stay at his inn had never taken his list of amenities seriously, which was good because it wasn’t meant to be serious. But his sarcasm had obviously been lost on his French visitors if their increasing requests were anything to go by. 

"And after you get started with the laundry we would like some croissants with breakfast," Adrienne directed after loading him down with an armload of laundry.

“And of course we’ll need to set a wake-up call for tomorrow,” Gilbert added, “at five o'clock.”

“In the morning?” Grantaire asked weakly. That hour didn’t tend to exist for him on most days.

"Of course," Gilbert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course,” repeated Grantaire under his breath.

Adrienne and Gilbert walked away and Grantaire threw down the laundry in a huff, "I suppose if they were found dead tomorrow there would be questions."

“Bitten off a bit more than you can chew?”

Grantaire turned on his heel to find Enjolras smirking at him.Grantaire muttered something unintelligible.   
  
“You know the sign does say hotel,” Enjolras informed him.

“Excuse me?” Grantaire grit out. 

Enjolras met his eyes, amused.    
  
“The sign,” he repeated, “it says hotel.”   
  
Grantaire was silent for a long moment, taking a deep breath.    
  
“Oh, really,” he said, sarcasm evident in his voice and burning under Enjolras’s amusement as he walked over to the door of the saloon and looked at the sign with his hands on his hips, “Well whaddaya know, it does.”   
  
He grabbed the sign, which was held on fairly precariously, and tore it down before slamming it against the door frame until it broke in half. By the time he finished, Grantaire was breathing heavily through his nose and stomped back inside to where Enjolras was still standing.

“Is that better?” Grantaire asked.

“You...are a very emotional man,” Enjolras said, “aren’t you. It’s all holed up inside, though.”

“Thanks for the psychoanalysis,” Grantaire snarked.    
  
"I'm just being observant," Enjolras replied coolly, "you shouldn't keep it all in you know."   
  
"LIke you're one to talk," Grantaire rolled his eyes.   
  
“Being in control is different than being repressed,” Enjolras told him.    
  
"Sure, whatever," Grantaire scoffed.   
  
“You need to let go once in a while,” continued Enjolras, taking a step closer, “Let it out.”   
  
Grantaire looked at him incredulously, "Ain't gonna happen." “Oh, bullshit.”   
  
Grantaire had never heard Enjolras swear in the time he’d been in Deadrock so it took him aback a little.  "Did you just-"   
  
"Don't you start acting all prim with me," Enjolras huffed.

“Look,” Grantaire said, “just because you’re from the big city and think we country folk don’t know how to take care of ourselves, it don’t mean that-“   
  
Grantaire never got to finish his sentence, silenced by Enjolras’s lips against his. When the blonde pulled back, Grantaire was glad for the chair right behind him as he dropped into it heavily.

"What was that for?" Grantaire gasped.

“Letting go,” Enjolras replied. 

Grantaire would never admit to the little squeak he let out when Enjolras suddenly straddled his lap, Hopkins his arms around the back of Grantaire’s neck. Never in a million years would Grantaire have expected his day to go like this. Of course, he wasn’t exactly going to complain. When someone who is practically a Greek god reincarnate literally finds his way into your lap, how could he?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you only watch one thing from the actual show, [WATCH THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkJ0uYZUHD0). No seriously, you won't regret it.


	7. Stiff Upper Lip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh okay, we suck we're sorry. It's been far too long and we hate to leave everybody hanging and then come back with a short chapter like this. We're working on the final chapter right now and we hopefully won't have to make you wait too long to get it. When one of you has a full time job and the other is doing a PhD and working, not to mention the nine hour time difference...
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this penultimate chapter.

When Marius walked into the theatre, the mood was the exact opposite of what it had been the past days. Instead of the bubbling joy there was thick tension. Everyone was sitting on wooden chairs, many of them purposefully avoiding each other’s eyes. The few eyes Marius did have the misfortune of meeting made his stomach tangle in knots. He couldn't help but feel that despite everything he'd tried to do he'd let the whole town of Deadrock down. The most heartbreaking thing was Cosette steadfastly ignoring him. He hadn’t meant to cause any harm, he just wanted to do something with his life. Or at least do something that mattered. His attempt to get Cosette’s attention stymied, Marius miserably made his way over to the empty chair beside Eponine and did his best not to slump down too much. Eponine patted his knee comfortingly. Marius wasn’t very comforted.

“So what are we gonna do?” Someone called out from all who were gathered.

A sort of deafening silence followed the question, nobody seeming willing to offer an answer. Finally Marius couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“We can’t just let this die. We,” he glanced over at Cosette, “you’ve all worked too hard on this show to give up on it now.” There was some mumbling in the crowd, “Don’t you think we should give it one more chance?”

“To an audience of none.” That was Combeferre, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

"I guess we're gonna have to say goodbye to this place," Cosette's father sighed, "I'll go talk to R, I'd rather let him have it then some bank."

“No!” Marius exclaimed, “You can’t!”

“Father,” Cosette said primly, “could you tell Mister Pontmercy that we’ve had enough of him sticking his nose into business that isn’t his.”   
  
Before Marius or anyone else could respond two people entered the theater.   
  
"What a lovely space!" one of them declared.

It was the French couple that had arrived the day before, who had inadvertently given them hope for an audience.    
  
“Oh yes!” added Adrienne, matching her husband’s enthusiasm.    
  
Everyone just stared at them blankly, "Can we help you with something?" Cosette called out, "cause if not we're kinda busy in here."   
  
“Don’t mind us,” Gilbert said, waving his hand dismissively, “we’ll just be back here admiring the architecture.”   
  
"Okay..." Cosette's voice wavered and turned back to the crowd, "well I guess that settles it don't it?"   
  
“It doesn’t settle anything,” Marius insisted.    
  
“Tell Mister Pontmercy,” Cosette began.    
  
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” Marius grumbled, “but I can’t just stand idly by and watch this theatre get squandered. We have a great show, we just need an audience.”   
  
“And what’re you gonna do? Drag ‘em in by their ears?” Cosette snorted, apparently choosing to forget that she wasn’t speaking to Marius. "In case you forgot their ain't an audience for miles around here!" she continued.   
  
“Look, I’m trying my best here,” Marius said, “I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me!” The woman at the back of the theater spoke up, “Perhaps we could be of some assistance?”

“Remind me who you are again?” Cosette asked, sounding mildly exasperated but still polite. 

“Gilbert and Adrienne du Motier, at your service,” the man replied.

"And exactly how can you be of service?" Cosette raised her brow and folded her arms across her chest.

“Well,” Gilbert said, “it seems to me that you could all do with a bit of a boost. As we say in France...”

Here he said, well something. Something that none of the others present could actually understand. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Courfeyrac called out.   
  
“It means...” Gilbert looked to his wife as if for assistance.    
  
“Keep calm,” she said, “and...carry on!”

“What?” Courfeyrac called back.   
  
“I think they mean-“ Marius started but was silenced by many glares from around the room.   
  
“What we mean is,” Adrienne took over, “that you cannot let one failure keep you down forever. You need to pick yourselves back up.”

“Oooooh” everyone replied in unison.

“So how do we do that?” Cosette asked.

“You need to keep a positive outlook,” Gilbert said, “Keep your head held high.”

“Like this?” Bossuet asked, lifting his chin.    
  
Gilbert blinked, “Well, yes if you would like to be literal then that is perfect.”   
  
Bossuet beamed.    
  
"It's never as bad as you think," Adrienne told them.   
  
Cosette still seemed wary about the whole idea, but Marius was beginning to feel the slightest bit more hopeful again.

“You so sure about that?” Cosette asked.

“Of course we are,” Gilbert said, “Chin up, back straight, and confidence.”

Taking a cue from Bossuet, he then proceeded to demonstrate what he meant, and it certainly seemed impressive in the wake of everything else.

“Now you,” he said to Cosette. After a moment of hesitation, he included Marius as well. 

He eyes Cosette warily but joined her in standing with Gilbert and Adrienne.

“See, it isn’t so bad is it?” Adrienne smiled.

She and Gilbert moved away to begin encouraging the rest of the group as well. 

“Chin up,” Marius murmured, lifting his and keeping his eyes straight ahead.    
  
“Back straight,” Cosette added.    
  
“Confidence!” they said in unison.    
  
Marius puffed out his chest but he kept the post for only a few moments as the pressure of a hand pushing his shoulder caused him to stumble. He whipped his glance over to Cosette, but she was the perfect picture of innocence.    
  
“Over-confidence,” she snarked, her eyes filled with mirth.

Marius huffed but barely had a chance to say anything as a few of the men started to get a tad over excited with their new found confidence. For some reason this involved building some sort of structure out of tables and chairs, repeating their new mantra. It was difficult not to get caught up in it and Marius was amused to see that even Eponine was passing things to Combeferre to add to the growing pile. When they finally ran out of chairs and tables they strpped back to admire their handiwork looking very proud. Somehow, Marius and Cosette ended up side by side at the very top.

“All in favor of trying the show again?” Marius called.

A dishearteningly small number of people offered their agreement, although Marius was pleased to see that Cosette was in that number. 

“All those in favor of giving up and going back to our normal lives?” called Feuilly in opposition.

“Aye!” everyone else replied firmly.

“B-but!” Marius protested. 

He scrambled to get off of the pile of furniture even as everyone slowly started filtering out of the theatre.    
  
“Sorry, Marius,” Eponine said, one of the last to leave the room, “For a second there, I actually thought you could do it.”

And just like that his moment of happiness was gone once again. It was like he’d failed all over again.

“Looks like you’ll get your wish,” Marius sighed, turning to Cosette. 

“What?” She sounded genuinely confused.    
  
“I’m heading back to New York,” he replied miserably, “It’s not like there’s anything for me here.”   
  
Cosette felt an odd pain in her heart at that. She watched Marius leave with his shoulders slumped. She was so distracted by his demeanor and the way it made her feel that she didn’t notice when Zangler came into the theatre, some of the cowboys in tow.

“We’ll put something in every newspaper in this state,” Zangler declared.

“Every paper?” Courfeyrac’s jaw dropped.

Zangler raised an eyebrow, “This is Nevada. How many can there be?”

Courfeyrac shrugged.

“Use picture of pretty girl, works every time,” Zangler added. Then he looked at the pile of tables and chairs, gesturing to it with a wave of his hand,  “And clean this place up! It looks like French Revolution in here.”

He held up a red table cloth that had been draped over one of the chairs and shook his head.

“What are you doing?” Cosette asked.

“He’s gonna do the show!” Bossuet said excitedly. 

“You are all very talented,” Zangler agreed, “especially that Marius. I used to think he was an idiot, but now I know that he is a talented idiot. Where is he?”   
  
“He left,” Cosette told him sadly, “back to the City.”

Zangler hesitated for a moment, “Well then I suppose I’ll just make you star.”

Cosette blinked, “Well...alright. I suppose.”

“Very well,” Zangler clapped his hands together, “let’s get a move on, we start rehearsal later today!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that joke about the French Revolution is actually in script (and yes we know that LM doesn't actually cover the French Revolution). To be honest, I think that might be what first sparked our idea for this AU...
> 
> Fun fact: JetGirl is such a Mizzie that her mom actually thought that the two of us gave them the idea for this joke.


	8. Who Could Ask For Anything More?

Being back in New York City Marius was even more miserable than when he'd left it the first time. As agreed he spent most of his time at the bank, never once wandering towards the light of 42nd and Broadway like he used to. He just didn't have the heart. As such, his world seemed to be grayscale. Paperwork passed his desk almost without him noticing, every paper looked the same. He didn’t even have the dubious pleasure of Enjolras’s dry wit to make his days brighter. Day in and day out it all felt the same, everything was all blurring together into one. Occasionally his mind drifted to Deadrock, as he wondered what was happening there, and to Cosette. But that train of thought was one that only led to sadness and frustration.

He'd never be back to that small town, that he was sure of. So it was no use dwelling on that fact, and he should just forget the whole thing.

Their lives had joined briefly and that was all it could be, a mere crossing of paths. This was what he life was meant to be.    
  
"Happy Birthday Marius," His grandfather mumbled placing a piece of paper on Marius desk.

The paper looked like every other paper that he’d seen that day and it took Marius a moment for his grandfather’s words to penetrate his brain.

"What do you mean?" Marius asked. 

"Well give it a read," His grandfather urged.   
  
Marius slid the paper forward towards himself, and looked at the letters written in large dark ink, "Deed of trust?"

His grandfather looked rather pleased with himself, but Marius felt like he was missing out on the joke. 

“I don’t understand.”   
  
“It’s for you,” grandfather Gillenormand pressed.    
  
“Another assignment,” sighed Marius.    
  
“Take another look,” Has grandfather continued.   
  
Marius raised his brow in confusion but did as he was told.   
  
“You’re...giving me a building?” Marius’s asked, “Gee thanks, it’s what I always wanted.”

“Not just any building,” His grandfather smiled.

Marius looked at the address listed on the document, it couldn’t be... But how?   
  
“Zangler’s Theater?” Marius blinked.

“Your theatre,” his grandfather corrected, “Zangler was behind on his payments, picked up and moved and poured all of his assets into some podunk town’s little place.”

So Zangler was still in Deadrock.

  
“‘Ponine...” Marius muttered.

It was easy to imagine, he knew the girls so well he could see them in his mind’s eye: Eponine, Musichetta, Jehan. All dressed in their finest sequined dresses, made up with dark red lipstick. Marius sighed. He missed them. He missed the way they would always get so excited for him and support him in his dreams. And he missed...suddenly Cosette was there too. Not all gussied up, that wasn’t her thing. No, she was more overall pants and dirt-stained boots. And she was beautiful. 

“Grandfather,” Marius said, standing up suddenly, “I have to go. I’ve realized...I can’t leave love behind.”   
  
Grandfather Gillenormand frowned, “Another girl.”   
  
“The same girl,” Marius replied, “and I love her.”   
  
“Well,” his grandfather huffed and Marius held his breath, prepared to defend himself against him at any cost, “I refuse to let you carry on some girl without meeting her first.”   
  
Marius beamed.

“Can we go now? It’s a long way to Deadrock,” Marius began to feel giddy at the prospect of returning to the town.

His grandfather grumbled a little, but there was something in his eye. It was a sort of glimmer that Marius had never seen there before. But then again, he didn’t think he’d ever been this happy when in his grandfather’s presence.

 

—————

 

Deadrock had always been the kind of town that stayed the same no matter how much time had passed or what happened. Even after the continued success of the Zangler Follies, the town stayed the same. Mostly. The Corinth was much cleaner than it had been, everything in order and even with a small expansion. It was all thanks to Enjolras, who had taken over some of the more business aspects from Grantaire. Not that he minded, when Enjolras got in one of his bossy moods, it always ended up great for Grantaire. 

People were actually coming out of their way to visit the small town these days. Giving a glimpse of what it must have been like in its hay day. For his part, Valjean was absolutely thrilled. He’d dug out his old tuxedo, which miraculously still fit him, and was overjoyed every time he saw Cosette on the stage. But despite performing on stage night after night, there was a sadness in Cosette’s eyes. For some time she kept it inside, but finally it became too much for her to bear. She could scarcely believe that she missed Marius as much as she did. And with each day that he was gone that ache seemed to grow.

Not to mention, the more time she spent around the real Zangler, the more she began to see the differences between him and the way Marius had portrayed him. And the more of that she saw the more she realized that the parts of “Bela” that she’d fallen in love with were all the things that Marius brought to him. She soon wanted nothing more than to go to New York, track Marius down and tell him how much she loved him.

“But the show is going to start any minute,” Valjean said, following Cosette out into the main square of the town.

“I don’t care about the show, Papa,” Cosette sighed, pausing for a moment to holler for Courfeyrac, who had one of the few cars in town, “it’s been nice an’ all, but...I need to see Marius.”

Courfeyrac dashed out, “What’cha need?”

“Can you give me a ride to the train station?” Cosette asked.

“What for?” Courfeyrac raised a brow.

“I’m going to New York,” Cosette declared.

“But I don’t think I have enough—“ Courfeyrac began.

“This is for the sake of love, Courf,” Cosette snapped, “so get the car!”

Courfeyrac held up his hands in surrender before rushing off.

“Are you sure about this, Cosette?” Valjean asked, placing a gentle hand on her cheek.

“Oh, Papa,” she said, leaning into the touch with a smile, “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I love him.”

Valjean blinked a few times, his eyes suspiciously shiny, “Well alright. But you make sure y’all come back and visit.”

Cosette presses a kiss to his forehead and then rushed off after Courfeyrac.

“What was the hollering about?” Grantaire asked as he and Enjolras stepped out of the saloon.

“Love,” Valjean said simply.

“I’m sure that Cosette and Pontmercy will be very happy together,” Enjolras said, wrapping his arm comfortably around Grantaire’s waist, who still blushed slightly at the affection.

The little moment was broken by Zangler emerging from the theatre with Eponine, Musichetta, and Jehan in tow already all dressed for the performance.

“Where is she? Where is star?” Zangler asked, “We have full house waiting for show but no star to be found!”

“Off to New York,” Valjean informed him.

Zangler heaved a sigh, “Even from across the country, Marius Pontmercy intrudes in my life! Fine. Musichetta!”

Musichetta stepped forward, “Yes, sir.”

“You will do Cosette’s part tonight.”

Musichetta nodded and then rushed into the theatre to get ready. Then in the distance was the sound of a sputtering motor which caused everyone to look around to find the source of the noise. But it wasn’t Courfeyrac’s car, it was a different one that wasn’t familiar to the townsfolk. The person who stepped out of the driver’s side was.

“Marius!” those present chorused.

“I’m back,” Marius announced unnecessarily.

His return brought on a mixed response from everyone who was gathered.

“What’s happening around here?” Marius asked coming over towards them, “Where’s Cosette? I need to see her.”

“She left for the train,” Feuilly sighed.

“The train?” Marius eyes were wide, “The train to where?”

“To New York to find you,” Valjean explained.

“Where is this girl of yours?” Marius’s grandfather asked, stepping out of the car with a disdainful sniff at their surroundings, “I don’t want to be in the place for longer than necessary.”

“Mister Gillenormand?”

The man in question turned to the saloon entrance, his eyebrows raised high in surprise, “Alexandre!”

"What are you doing here?" Enjolras asked coming forward.

"I could ask you much of the same," Gillenormand looked him up and down, "I was surprised you hadn't returned to New York"

“I live here now,” Enjolras replied, “with my...” he floundered for a moment, seemingly unable to come up with the right word, “with Grantaire.”

For his part, Grantaire didn’t seem too bothered by this lack of specificity, making a motion as if he was touching the brim of a hat in a sort of half-salute, his grin wide.

Gillenormand blinked a few times, "I have to admit I'm more than a little surprised."

“And I’m more than a little bit happy,” Enjolras replied, his tone sweeter than Marius had ever heard it.

“Well,” Gillenormand huffed, “I suppose we’ll just have to survive without you.”

"This all just grand but how am I going to find Cosette?" Marius sighed, "With our car broken down we can't go after her!"

“Get it over to Combeferre,” Eponine said, “he’s just as handy with tools as he is in doctoring.”

“Right!” Marius said, he looked around briefly before spotting who he was looking for, “Bahorel, can you give me a hand with that?”

“Sure thing,” agreed Bahorel.

“Stay here, grandfather,” Marius requested, “I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

It took a few good shoves, but Marius and Bahorel soon got the car rolling. Almost as soon as they disappeared from sight, Cosette came storming back from the opposite direction, a contrite Courfeyrac at her heels.

“How could you be outta gas!” she complained.

“Well I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac huffed, “I tried to tell you, but you didn’t listen.”

“Cosette!” The town collectively shouted.

“You came back!” Jehan proclaimed loudly.

“To be honest we didn’t get that far,” Cosette shot a look at Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, “I said sorry!”

"What am I gonna do now?” Cosette moaned.

Then she strode away huffily. During all of this back and forth, Eponine had been thinking and now she was pretty sure she had a plan.

“I have an idea,” she announced, “Everybody gather ‘round.”

Everyone did as they were told and huddled in close as Eponine laid out her plan to them. "Is that clear?" she asked once she'd finished explaining.

They all nodded and began to disperse to their various tasks. Before they could get very far, a dreamy voice interrupted them.

“Wait,” Jehan said, “I don’t get it...”

Eponine resisted the urge to sigh. Jehan was a sweetheart but he could be a bit absent-minded at times.

"Alright I'll go over it again," she spoke gently and once again spelled everything out for Jehan.

“Ohhhh.” Jehan nodded, “Okay.”

Then they all set to work. It didn't take long but each respective group knew what they had to do, get Marius and Cosette into the theater.

But soon the plan was coming to fruition. The show was long over and only the townsfolk remained. Eponine was adjusting the tie on the suit Marius was wearing and so he was facing away from the wings when Cosette emerged from backstage, beautifully done up in her mother Fantine’s old gown.

"I still don't know why you're having me do this," Marius sighed but continued to let her fuss with his suit and hair.

Eponine smirked, “I’ve got one good reason.”

She grabbed Marius by the shoulders and turned him around. His mouth dropped open.

“Cosette,” he whispered.

"Hi Marius," Cosette replied shyly, her cheeks tinged pink as she slowly stepped towards him.

“You look...” Marius trailed off, seemingly at loss for words.

“Not so bad yourself,” Cosette shot back, her voice gently teasing.

"Thanks," Marius face flushed a deep shade of crimson.

"So how about a dance?" Cosette held out her hand for Marius to take.

As if on cue, the band that had accompanied that night’s performance began to play a sweet, slow tune. Marius beamed as he stepped forward to take her hand.

“Who could ask for anything more.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Thanks so much for sticking with us through it all! This started as a random passing thought inspired by a single scene in the musical and became this 15,000+ words of fic. We hope that you enjoyed reading because we certainly enjoyed writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> This story will update on Wednesdays until its completion.


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